


Saving My Brother

by GabiGoober



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, I rarely ever update for this so I'm sorry, This is also an AU, arranged marriage type thing? going on, because I started this before they gave shay closure, oc is the twin of connor, slow burn w/ shay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-18 00:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13670190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GabiGoober/pseuds/GabiGoober
Summary: In order to save her brother, Connor, she is forced to woo over the man trying to kill him. A man named Shay Patrick Cormac.





	1. An Uncomfortable Situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I've rewritten the first three chapters of this story. A lot of what I had written is fairly old and I feel I've grown as a writer. Plus, I kinda want to continue this story, but with the way it was written before I literally couldn't. Like, physically could not write anything. So I hope you like this! And I'm sorry if you're waiting for updates! Now that I've rewritten this maybe I actually can.

She sat in her biological father's office, staring at the floor. The stuffy air choked her as she contemplated this predicament. She was shocked, and yet, she wasn't. She wished her brother was here to protect her the way he always had.  _ Ironic _ , a harsh voice whispered from the back of her head,  _ you have to protect him now _ . Her father never was a huge part of her life, so to sell her off now; it wouldn't matter much to him. She was more surprised it had taken this long.

 

"I'll give you time to process what I've told you, yes?" He was so cold, so calculating, her father. She wondered how both herself and Connor had turned out the way they had. Of course, this largely had to do with the fact that their mother, and after her death, their clan had raised them.

 

Once he left the room, she allowed herself to show emotions she had to hide. Panic. Anxiety. Sadness. Her hands shook, as she tried not to cry. She knew that marriages rarely held love in them. She knew that, of course she did. She wasn't completely naive. But a small part of her, the child in her, hoped that maybe when she did marry it would be for love.

 

God, she was wrong. But how could she help herself? Especially with her father’s looming threat against her true family held against her head? A tear slipped down her cheek, her shaking hand reached up and wiped it away. Haytham would notice if she had cried. He was an observant bastard like that.

 

She wondered for a moment if she should tell Connor. She could only imagine that Haytham would have hell to pay if she did tell him. A large part of her wanted that. Badly. She would be lying if she told herself otherwise. Connor would protect her, that much was certain. But the other part of her wanted to protect  _ him _ . Wasn't this the reason she was even considering this in the first place? Of course it was, she would do anything for her brother.

 

She got up from her seat, and walked out the door; her decision was already made. Haytham waited outside the door, looking at her like he'd expected her to be worse off. But, after all, she was his daughter, his child. And she knew how to take care of herself.

 

He smiled, though it was cold, "I'm glad you have come to terms with your," he paused, "situation, Chenoa."


	2. A Lie by Omission is Still A Lie

She had never lied to her brother before. If she had, at least, not for so long, and never for something as serious. It made her nervous; So nervous, she couldn't be around him for too long, and eye contact was damn near impossible. Both Achilles and Connor  _ knew _   that something was wrong.

 

She had always been the chattiest between the three of them. Especially when Achilles and Connor had first met, and started training. Chenoa had to fill up the silence while they were gone for hours on end. It was odd, that the person who never stopped talking during dinner couldn't even look up. She feared her secret would slip out without saying a word.

 

Regardless, she had already decided that she would meet with the man Haytham intended her to marry. If he was intolerable, she decided that she would tell Connor, and he would, yet again, come to her rescue. If he wasn't… Chenoa supposed a marriage to a _ tolerable _ man would not be the end of the world. She’d heard of worse husbands to have, especially from Ellen, the seamstress who Connor had saved.

 

She could hardly ate, her stomach already in knots. She only had to survive one more day with this unbearable secret. One more day, and she would meet this man, and her fate would be decided. Chenoa took Connors and Achilles plate, escaping into the kitchen.

 

Connor grabbed her arm gently, as she scrubbed the dishes, ridding them of any dirt. "What's wrong?"

 

She frowned, biting her tongue, "Nothing."

 

"I thought we agreed. We'd never lie to each other, and yet.." His voice trailed off, distressed. Chenoa couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

 

She sighed, set down the dishes, grabbing his arm, pulling him into a tight hug. "One more day, Connor. Give me one more day and I will tell you everything. I promise."

 

He shook his head, his eyes downcast. Connor didn’t return the hug; Chenoa pulled away to get a good look at her older brother. His annoyance could be seen from a mile away, at least to Chenoa. 

 

“Well, at least pretend like you have patience,” she chided, focusing back on the dishes. 

 

He folded his arms over his chest, leaning against the kitchen counters. “You stared at food you didn’t eat. When we express concern you tell me I need patience?”

 

The corners of her mouth pulled into a small grin. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Besides, there’s not much I can tell you until tomorrow.”

 

At this repeated information, Connor accepted defeat. His eyebrow pulled upwards, and he walked away, muttering something about how  _ annoying  _ his little sister was. 

 

Chenoa enjoyed the distraction her brother granted her, but just as soon as the distraction came it left. She leaned against the sink and pinched the bridge of her nose. If she could just fall asleep, tomorrow would be new day: another day in which she could finally vent to her brother. 


	3. Perfectly Imperfect

Chenoa wanted sleep, desperately. Deep, deep down, she knew she wasn't going to get it. She sat in front of the fire on the first floor of the house alone, the late night settling in. The crackles and pops were a comfort to her, a welcoming distraction as she focused on the enveloping heat. She wondered if this could be the last normal night of her life, before normal changed, that is.

 

She glanced away from the fire, and towards Achilles, who was walking out into the main sitting area with a soft look in his eyes. While Connor and Achilles may have bickered, Chenoa and Achilles had a stronger relationship. Achilles, who had grown to be more of a father than Haytham could ever be. Achilles would never admit it, but she always thought he was grateful to have them both around. Likewise, Connor and her were equally as grateful for him. They’d grown to love life at Achilles' homestead. Achilles had moved across the room and sat in his usual chair. Chenoa had a brief thought of losing him that made her almost sick to her stomach. He sat down in what Chenoa had nicknamed his most prized possession.

 

The silence was comforting.

 

Achilles watched the girl, as she briefly wondered if she should say anything to him.

 

He tapped his cane on the floor, unsure of what to say. He sighed a great big sigh, as he stared at her penetratingly. Chenoa always had the idea in her head that he knew when she lied to him because he was all-knowing. When she was younger it made her nervous. That feeling never truly left.

 

She pursed her lips. “I already said I can’t say anything.”

 

He nodded his head and laughed raspily. “To Connor.”

 

Chenoa laughed. Most of their conversations were like this, there was a certain type of ease that she couldn’t quite place a name on. “Haytham found me today. I’m not sure how, but he did.”

  
Achilles nodded, his smile gone at the mention of Haytham’s name. “When you were in town, I presume?”

 

She nodded her head briefly.

 

A soft humming noise flowed from Achilles' mouth. “That is not the end of this story?”

 

His sentence ended more like a statement than a question.

 

Again, she shook her head. “He said that there was talk of bringing back a man who used to belong to this branch of Templars. Talk of a man that hated the assassins. Said he killed most of them,” she whispered. The fire illuminated the room at first in a bright, warm glow. Now, with the change in mood, the light seemed to highlight the darkness. Chenoa felt like something would pop out of the shadows at any given second.

 

“My goal, my mission is to dissuade this man from harming you or Connor. Whatever the cost may be.” Chenoa’s eyes flitted from Achilles to the fire. A moment passed. Achilles silence unnerved her.

 

“Did you know him?”

 

Achilles smiled bittersweetly, his fingers tapped against his cane in a rhythmic pattern. “I did. A long, long time ago. I’m sure he remembers it just as well as I do. I’m sure they both do.”

 

His eyes seemed distant like he was a million miles away from her, rather than in the same sitting area. Achilles nodded, although she wasn’t sure if he saw her at all anymore. “It was a long time ago, almost 20 or so years.”

 

"Now, mind you, child, I am not a perfect man. I've made many mistakes in my life. But this, I fear, was my greatest, one that I'll never forgive myself for."

 

"There were precursor temples. They were the main goal of both Assassins and Templar's alike, at that time anyway. I sent one of my best men to get one, in Lisbon, and the city collapsed. It was my fault. He was just following orders. He told me what happened, and I didn't believe him. I continued doing what I thought was right. And what I thought was right was wrong.”

 

"He left the Assassin Order, and went to the Templar Order.”

 

Chenoa’s eyebrows were raised. An admission of imperfection, of guilt. The fire was lower than it was before, the lighting in the room was a warm glow again.

 

“You should get some rest,” Achilles said suddenly as if the bubble of the storytelling had been burst. He got up in precise, yet slow movements and headed to his bedroom. “You have a big day tomorrow.”


	4. Homecoming

 

A Week Before the Meeting

 

Shay had finally returned to America. He could tell, as the ship neared the Boston harbor that it was different. Something in the atmosphere had changed from the years of peace after the Seven Years War. He hadn’t been back to the colonies in such a long time as there had been no reason for him to return. There was other work to be done to aide the Templar’s work. In fact, the only reason he had returned was because Haytham had written him, asking for him to return once the artifact had been retrieved. Now that Dorian was dead and the artifact was safe in Templar hands, Shay felt that he could return before he could find more information was retrieved for the next artifact.

 

While he wanted to rest before actually meeting with Haytham again, duty in the form of Charles Lee, stood waiting by the dock. Shay noted that Lee didn’t seem to keen on retrieving him. It made him feel at ease, almost, in that he wasn’t the only one who was unsure about how to feel in returning. 

 

“Hello Shay,” Lee greeted, as Shay stepped foot on to American soil. It felt relieving to him that he wasn’t the only one who aged. 

 

He glanced over Charles before giving a amicable smile. “It’s been a while, Lee,” Shay simply stated, giving a firm handshake. 

 

Charles mumbled in assent, as he started walking forward. “That it has. Quite a few things have changed, as I’m sure you are well aware.”

 

Shay simply nodded his head, as they walked in stride in the Boston streets. If Shay were honest, he hadn’t kept too close an eye on the situation in America. It was easier for him to keep focused on the artifacts, besides the fact that he was completely confident in Haytham’s skills to keep a handle on things here. However, some things were hard to miss - such as a revolution. “Aye, it certainly seems that the colonies have sought out another fight.”

 

“Yes, it seems they have,” Charles agreed with him. “Although, that was not what I was referring to.” 

 

Shay threw a questioning glance towards Lee as they neared the Green Dragon Tavern. “Will Haytham be updating me on our current situation?”

 

Charles smirked and held open the door. “After you.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'll be honest, I don't have any excuses. I didn't have any inspiration for this story, and as much as everyone wants an update, I did too. I had no idea where this story was gonna go and to be honest, I still don't. 
> 
> I'm not promising any updates from here on out. I would love to finish this story, but I'm not reliable in that department. Bear with me folks, I hope that I will be able to update this story. It's honestly been so long since I've written anything for this so I'm having to do research on the games, characters, and general history. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this small chapter.


	5. Diplomacy

In the early hours of the morning, Chenoa moved softly through the house. The sun had barely kissed the freshly fallen snow. It was the beginning of winter now, the house had a chill that she could feel in her bones. A loud knock on the door beckoned her, a messenger that had sent a package from Haytham. Of course, he didn’t trust her to dress herself. She rolled her eyes, but politely smiled and thanked the messenger. The large, red door closed shut as she set the box down, and read the note stating the time and where she should meet him. 

 

She trudged to her bedroom, before looking over what Haytham had deemed appropriate. Her petticoat was a simple, yet gorgeous cream color. The dress itself, however was an off-white color that complemented the petticoat, and did not distract from red and green flora pattern. The sleeves fell to her elbows, and finished with a gorgeous embroidered muslin fichu that matched the sleeve flounces. Chenoa could not argue the beauty of the dress. 

 

Once Chenoa put on the dress, she could not argue how the dress complemented her warm, beige skin. She took her long, brown hair out of a braid and pinned it into a bun. The cold wind blew harshly against the house. Looking into the mirror above her vanity, she surveyed herself and tried to conjure up what Haytham would think of her. A small laugh escaped her, as she imagined he’d be disappointed in not having her hair in a high roll. 

 

And with that thought in her mind, she slipped out of her room, out of her house, and was on her way into Boston.

 

* * *

 

 

In the Green Dragon Tavern, it was quiet. Shay was on edge, still very much unsure about Haytham’s proposition. If they maneuvered this correctly, they would have an advantage towards squashing any hope of the Colonial Assassins from returning - for good. It didn’t seem right, Shay had waited a long time for marriage. Not on purpose, at least, but he  _ did _ end up waiting. Regardless, Haytham’s decision was practically made already. Shay sat a table, next to Haytham and an empty chair. He knocked back the rest of his whiskey and debated getting another drink while waiting. 

 

Haytham gaze fell from the door to Shay, “nervous?”

 

Shay’s eyebrows furrowed, his fingers twirled the glass in his hands. “No.” He shrugged, “Just thinking.” 

 

“You are unsure, then,” Haytham simply stated, his eyes not falling from his old friend. 

 

“I’m,” he paused, unsure of where his thought process lay. To say that it just felt wrong would not give Haytham a true reason. 

 

Before he could truly respond, a young woman of about twenty approached the table. Her head was held high, as she looked down at Haytham, who stood to greet her. Quickly realizing that this must be Chenoa, Shay stood as well. He noted that she was almost as tall as Haytham himself, and had dark brown hair and soft brown eyes. 

 

“Haytham,” Chenoa stated simply, with a calm tone. Turning slightly to make eye contact with Shay, she looked him over. 

 

Haytham, looking rather pleased about the dress began with introducing the two, “Shay, this is Chenoa. Chenoa, this is Shay.”

 

At this, Chenoa smiled as diplomatically as she could. Her stomach was in a knot, but she extended her hand anyway. 

 

"It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Miss Chenoa," Shay smiled, taking her hand into his and bringing it to his lips. 

 

Chenoa smiled back at him, unsure of what to say in kind. 

 

"Let's sit, we have much to discuss," Haytham said, after letting a few moments pass.   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, two updates in one day! This chapter is longer too, so I hope you'll enjoy it! Also, I never really discussed it, but since they've finally given closure for Shay's character, in that he never comes to America again, this is an AU of sorts, I guess. 
> 
> I don't know when the next update will be, but I'll try to get it out as soon as possible.


End file.
